


What a feeling

by Mary_dutch



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Just a figment of my imagination, Louis is being an awesome friend, M/M, Zayn has some issues he needs to work through, smut in later chapters, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 04:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14036271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_dutch/pseuds/Mary_dutch
Summary: When Zayn is forced to spend time at his family home, he expects a lot of problems. What he doesn't expect, is the boy-next-door to turn his life upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER:  
> 1\. I do NOT know any of the members of One Direction, never met them, have no affiliation to them or their families. This story is just a figment of my imagination and is not true whatsoever. It doesn't protray how I think the boys act or feel in real life. 
> 
> 2\. A warning: this story touches upon some sensitive subjects, such as homophobia and religion. The opinions in this story are not necessarily my own, nor do I expect them to be similar to those of the people I use so shamelessly for this story. They are just something I used for this story. I don't mean to preach or spread any opinion about these subjects. Please take this story for what it is: fiction!

__

Whatever chains are holding you back  
Holding you back, don't let 'em tie you down

Whatever chains are holding you back  
Holding you back, tell me you believe in that

What a feeling to be right here beside you now  
Holding you in my arms  
When the air ran out and we both started running wild  
The sky fell down  
But you've got stars, they're in your eyes  
And I've got something missing tonight

What a feeling to be a king beside you, somehow  
I wish I could be there now  
I wish I could be there now

**One Direction** – what a feeling.

***

**Prologue**

“Zayn? Who’s this?”

Zayn stares from Louis, who is raising an eyebrow at him, to Liam, who’s smiling at him widely, eyes open and full of warmth. Behind Liam, Niall and Harry are looking at him expectantly. With a jolt, Zayn realises Louis hasn’t actually met Liam before. Zayn had never made time for the two of them to meet. He’d deliberately kept Liam and Louis apart. Integrating those two parts of his live would have made it real. It would have turned his relationship with Liam into something real. 

Suddenly, it’s a bit difficult to breath. Zayn’s lungs feel like someone is squeezing them tightly together. Zayn doesn’t know why he feels trapped all of a sudden, but he feels like the walls are closing in him on him. It’s the first sign of a panic attack and Zayn doesn’t know if he’s able to control it this time. He opens his mouth, gaze still focused on Liam, but no words come out of his mouth. 

“Zayn?” Liam’s smile falters just a little and he takes a miniscule step forwards. From the corner of his eye, Zayn sees Louis do the same. 

Zayn freezes. 

Anger at his father and anger at Liam for making him feel regret when it comes to his father is still coursing through his veins. Mixed with the amount of alcohol he’s had, it’s a dangerous combination. Zayn hates how vulnerable it makes him feel. How vulnerable Liam makes him feel. Zayn had vowed to himself to never let it happen before. Not after the way his heart was shattered before. 

And yet he had let Liam come so close to shattering all the walls Zayn had so carefully constructed in the last six years… Zayn is not sure if he can handle it. Having Louis and Liam in the same room, both of them staring at him, is too much. 

Even though no one is telling him he has to choose between the two parts of his life, it feels like his brain is scrambling to gain control over his heart. 

Zayn’s heart tells him to take a step towards Liam – Liam with his full lips, honey-brown eyes that had looked up at Zayn in both wonder and with a sincerity that Zayn isn’t used to, and his warm skin that feels so good under Zayn’s fingertips. Liam, with his kindness and heart that’s open to almost anyone. Liam, who’d made him laugh more in the last few weeks than he had in years, and who’d made him feel _happy_.

His brain though… Zayn’s brain is screaming at him to step towards Louis. To pull up his guards and protect himself from any heartbreak. His treacherous mind is hissing at him that Louis never questioned him, never made him question his motives about his father and about the choices Zayn made in his life. Louis hadn’t made Zayn blame himself for the strained relationship with his family. Louis, who’s known him for years, has seen him in his worst moments and is still his friend. Louis, who won’t be able to break his heart, because he doesn’t have Zayn’s heart to begin with. 

And since Zayn is a coward, who’s so used to let his head rule instead of his heart, he follows his instincts. It’s almost an unconscious decision to let his defence mechanisms rule his feelings. 

Zayn steps away from Liam, to stand next to Louis. 

Liam flinches visibly. The smile falls from his face completely and his eyes lose their warm glow. Zayn feels a cold shiver run through him, but he closes himself off from any more emotions, too worried to be buried under them if he lets them surface right now. Liam looks at him, confusion written on his face. Niall and Harry seem to know what’s coming though. Both of them take a step forward so they’re standing next to Liam. Each on one side, ready to catch Liam whenever Zayn delivers the blow they both seem to expect of him. 

“He’s the neighbours’ kid.” Zayn says. He doesn’t recognize his own voice – strangled and cold. Louis’ eyes widen for a fraction of a second, recognition flashing in the blue orbs. Louis doesn’t say anything though. The silence is screaming at Zayn, so he continues. “He used to help my mum and dad around.”

“Babe…” Liam is biting his lip, eyes begging Zayn to say something else. Zayn can hear the unvoiced question in the term of endearment. ‘Just tell the truth.’

“Don’t call me ‘babe’.” Zayn almost cringes at the distance in his own voice. 

Liam actually does cringe. “Zayn, what-” 

Peter’s voice is ringing in his ears – _“You’re cold, Zayn.”_ – when anger, alcohol and fear come together and make Zayn open his mouth where he should have stayed quiet. Zayn is not even sure where the lie comes from, but the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“Christ, Liam, it was just a fuck.”

Liam seems to crumble in front of him at the words. Panic slams into Zayn fully when Liam sinks to his left, against Harry’s side as if he needs Harry to keep him upright. Zayn wants to backtrack his words almost immediately. He wants to apologize for what he just said, to pull Liam against him and make sure that Liam knows it was _so much more_ than ‘just a fuck’. Regret is pressing on his lungs, making it even harder to breath, and he wants to undo the last twenty seconds. He doesn’t get a chance though. 

The two heartbeats Zayn needs to stop the panic from overwhelming him completely are enough for Niall and Harry to spur into action. Harry wraps his arm around Liam and starts pulling him away. “Li, let’s go.”

Liam’s eyes don’t leave Zayn’s – and Zayn knows he’ll be haunted in his sleep by the look of betrayal and hurt in them – until Harry forces Liam to turn around. Harry doesn’t even look at Zayn while he does it. Niall glares at Zayn though. “Asshole.” He grits, before he spins around and hurries after Harry and Liam. 

Zayn can only stare at them as they lead Liam out of the pub. 

Away from him. 

Shit. 

This time, he doesn’t even try to stop the panic from gripping him completely. He turns to Louis. Zayn knows he must look a fright, because Louis face softens immediately. “Zee?”

“Lou, what the fuck did I just do?”


	2. Chapter 2

** Part 1: How it starts **

**Chapter I**

It's a proper nightmare. 

Only Zayn is pretty sure he woke up this morning. The dull, throbbing pain just behind his temples is a sure sign he is awake. As is his sister's chattering while she's driving the car from the train station to their parents' house. Zayn hasn't even arrived at the house and he already wants to leave. He wants to turn on his heels – or turn the car around, which would be more practical – and get as far away as possible. 

“It'll be okay, Zayn.” 

Zayn grits his teeth at Doniya's attempt to get him to calm down a little. It's not her first try either. Since none of the ten cigarettes he already had today had done the trick, he doubts her words will make the situation any better. 

Doniya had called him a week ago, almost in tears because she couldn't handle the stress anymore. She had practically begged Zayn to come home. Zayn hadn't been able to tell her 'no', even though he hates the prospect of going back to his childhood-home for a stay that's bound to be longer than the 24 hours on end he managed to survive the last six years during Christmas. From the moment he'd agreed to come back to Bradford, Doniya had tried to calm his nerves, to let him know things would be okay. 

It hadn't helped.

Zayn hates the idea of spending weeks at home.

But the prospect of having to spend that much time with his parents hadn’t been enough to say 'no' to his sister when she had begged for his help. 

Plus, his treacherous mind had told him many, many times over the last week: it's not like he still had a live to leave behind in London anyway. University was done and with him graduating, he had lost his job at the university’s art centre. 

And Peter-

Zayn grits his teeth again and balls his fists. He's not going there, not right now. 

“Zayn?” 

With a startle, Zayn realises his sister's car had come to a stop in front of his parents' house. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the next minutes – hours, days, weeks – and slowly follows Doniya out of the vehicle. He's barely found his footing, when his youngest sister throws herself in his arms. “You're here!”

Zayn smiles into her wavy, long brown hair. He wraps his arms around Safaa's tiny waist and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah, I am babe.”

“You're not going again?”

“Not for a while.” Zayn promises her. He knows he'll go eventually, but he'll stay until his mum will be able to take care of herself and her family again. 

“I'm so happy you're here.” Safaa whispers in his ear as if it's a secret. Zayn feels a lump in his throat – at least someone is happy he's home. Safaa was only six years old when he left for London and he missed so much of her life. Seeing his younger sisters for a longer period of time and getting reacquainted with their lives really is the only upside of coming home. 

When Safaa starts squirming his arms, Zayn lets her go. She's smiling widely. It suddenly slams into Zayn that's not a little kid anymore. She's turning into a young woman, just as pretty as his other sisters. He watches as Safaa runs around the car to help Doniya with his two bags. He follows more slowly, taking the heaviest bag from Doniya, while Doniya and Safaa each take a handle of the smaller one. Safaa is babbling as they make their way into the house. She tells Zayn Waliyha is not home, she’s on a shopping spree with some of her friends that's bound to last all afternoon, and that _baba_ is still sleeping.

Zayn drops the bag in the hallway, close to the stairs to take upstairs later. Once both bags are dropped to the floor, Zayn follows his sisters deeper into the house, through the living room and into the kitchen. His mother is sitting at the kitchen table, the hand of her arm that's not in a cast wrapped around a cup of tea. Zayn almost gasps out loud as he sees his mother's face. The left side of her face is still covered in bruises and even though the gash through her left eyebrow is healing, it's still a stark contrast with her skin. 

The accident had been two weeks ago. He hadn't thought the effects of it would still be _so_ visible. Guilt overwhelms him when his mother smiles at him warmly; he had deliberately taken a whole fucking week before making the trip home, selfishly postponing it for as long as he could. He should have come home sooner, should have listened to Doniya when she'd told him how bad it was, instead of accusing her of exaggerating the situation to make him come home sooner. 

Maybe Peter was right after all. Perhaps he _is_ the selfish asshole Peter accused him to be.

“Zayn.” His mother is still smiling and she taps his cheek twice, just like she did when he was a child and he was snuggling up to his mum after a day of school. 

“Mum.” Zayn forces a smile, trying to cover up his shock. He kisses his mother's cheek and sinks down on a chair next to her. 

“Thank you, Zayn.” His mother says, her voice quivering unusually. “I know this can't have been easy.”

Zayn shrugs away the words, pretending everything is fine. Somewhere, buried deep inside him, he blames his mother for what happened those six years ago, blames her for letting his father treat him the way he did. But now is not the time to think about it, so he brushes off her words as if coming home isn't any trouble at all. “It's fine, mum.”

“Hmm.” She sounds like she doesn't believe him, but she doesn't say anything else. 

Doniya hands Zayn a cup of tea, but Zayn can't take his eyes of his mother. “How are you feeling.”

“Okay.”

“Mum...” While his mother hadn't called him out on his bullshit, Zayn isn't giving his mother the same easy way out. If he wants to be able to help, he needs to know how she's feeling; needs to know what she's capable off. His mother's sigh is deep, it sounds almost painful. “My back and shoulder hurt a lot, now that I can't take the heavy painkillers anymore. They're healing though.” 

Zayn nods. “And the arm?”

“The doctors think I won't need another operation.” 

Zayn nods again. “Have you heard from the lawyer yet?”

Tricia's face darkens. “He said we have a good shot at winning, but it'll cost a lot of money. If we win, that'll be covered but if we don't... We can't afford it, Zayn.”

Zayn grits his teeth. Again. He’s not going to have any teeth left if he keeps up with that habit, but anger is coursing through his body. He vividly remembers Doniya's frantic phone call near midnight two weeks ago. His knees had given out on him when she told him their parents and Safaa had been in a car accident. A drunk driver had ran a red light and hit their parents' car at the driver's side. Like a miracle, Safaa had come out of the wreckage with just a few scratches, but Yaser and Tricia hadn't been so lucky. His mother had broken her right arm and severely bruised her face, neck and back from being slammed into the door of the car. The glass flying around had cut open her face in several places and she'd ended up with a slight concussion. The fire department had to cut his father out of the car, his left leg badly broken in three places from being stuck between the door and the steering wheel. Yaser's concussion had been much worse, so while his mother had been released from the hospital after two days, they had kept his father in the hospital for almost two weeks. 

Doniya had stepped in. She had gone back to their parents’ home to stay with their sisters and to take care of Tricia when she came home from the hospital. The burden had quickly become too much; Doniya was balancing her own family life consisting of a husband and a toddler with the caretaking of their mother and sisters. Last week, she had admitted to Zayn that she was exhausted; not just from the strain, but also because of her second pregnancy. She was only eight weeks pregnant, but the morning sickness was much worse than when she was pregnant with little Zara. 

When their father was due back home, it became too much and she’d needed Zayn to step in. For the first time since Doniya had called him, Zayn properly realises how needed he is back home. He grabbed his mother’s free hand gently and squeezes. “We’ll manage mum, one way or another.”

“I figured you would want to press forward with the charges.” Tricia raises an eyebrow. 

“I do.” Zayn practically spits out. “That asshole deserves to pay for what he did. But only if you’re able to handle it.”

“We’ll see, Zayn.” His mother sounds so tired all of a sudden. Zayn squeezes her hand again. Before he can say anything else, Safaa rushes into the kitchen like the little whirlwind that she is and Zayn happily focuses his attention on his baby-sister.

***

Zayn closes his eyes as he takes in the delicious smell of Doniya’s cooking, when Tricia comes into the kitchen. “Zayn?”

Zayn turns in his chair to glance at his mother. The look on her face is a mixture between apologetic and stern. “Can you help your father into the kitchen, please? I can’t carry his weight and Doniya really shouldn’t.”

“I’m pregnant, mum. Not sick.” Doniya shakes her head. Zayn doesn’t want his sister’s infamous wrath turned on him by suggesting he agrees with his mother, so he covers up his chuckle with a cough. Zayn does wonder how his mother and sister had managed the last few days though. The unspoken question must read on his face, because his mother offers an explanation. 

“Our neighbour’s son has helped the last couple of days, but he had to work a late shift today.”

The comment barely registers to Zayn, and he forces himself to get up from his chair to help his father into the kitchen. He wants to ask if it wouldn’t be better if his father just stayed in bed but his mother’s eyes are silently begging him not to argue. 

Zayn takes a deep breath before he knocks on the door of his father’s improvised bedroom next to the living room. When he opens the door and his eyes find his father, he can’t contain the gasp of shock. If he thought his mother looked bad, his father looks significantly worse. It’s not so much the bruises, but the way his father is slouched down in the bed. His full hair looks flat and his handsome face is sunken in, the pain visible in his eyes. 

“Hello, Zayn.”

“Baba.”

“How are you?”

“I-” The greeting is so clinical, Zayn doesn’t know how to answer his father’s question. He hadn’t spoken to the man in almost seven months – he only talked to his mother when he had been in London and called home. The tension in the room is a screaming reminder of the way their relationship had fallen apart. “Ready to get some dinner?” 

“Yes.” 

Zayn takes the few steps to the bed and carefully wraps his arm around his father’s waist. “Careful.” Yaser grits as he wraps his left around Zayn’s neck. When Zayn pulls his father up, Yaser mutters in Urdu. He’s visibly in pain. 

“Okay?”

“Just keep going.” 

By the time they finally reach the kitchen, both men are sweating and Zayn is sure he hurt his father more than necessary. Yaser looks happy to be out of the confinement of his bedroom at least and Tricia pats Zayn on his shoulder as a thank you. 

The conversation is still strained though. Doniya and Tricia try to keep the conversation flowing, but both Zayn and his father are giving one-worded answers to their questions. After a few minutes, the women give up and Yaser seems content to listen to the chatter about little Zara. Zayn lets out a breath of relief when Waliyha arrives home, arms full of bags that she throws on the ground when she spots Zayn. Her greeting is just as enthusiastic as Safaa’s had been. Waliyha keeps chattering about her friends and the clothes she bought. 

The first dress she holds up makes Zayn bite his lip. It’s a little bit too relieving for his taste – Waliyha is still his little sister after all – but his parents don’t say anything so Zayn keeps quiet. When she pulls out a red little number that is _definitely_ too mature and skimpy for a sixteen year-old, Zayn can’t keep his mouth shut. “Are you sure about that dress?”

“What?” Waliyha shoots him a defiant look. “I like it.”

“I don’t think it’s really appropriate, sweetheart.” Doniya adds. Waliyha glares at the both of them. “You’re not mum and dad, so-”

“So?” Zayn ignores Waliyha’s haughty look. “You have to return it.”

“I don’t!” Waliyha sounds every bit the rebelling teenager that she is.

“Mum?” Zayn looks at his mother to his father. “Dad, you can’t agree with that dress.”

“Let us handle it.”

“Dad!”

“I don’t think you’re the best judge to decide what’s right and wrong, Zayn.”

And there it is. 

Zayn knows he probably – most definitely – should have let his parents handle his sister. But he had hoped his father and him would have least been able to spend a whole day together before the judgement about his ‘lifestyle choices’ would come to surface. 

“What the…” Zayn can’t control the slight raise of his voice as anger bubbles up inside him. “Yeah, well, being trashy can’t ever be as horrible as being gay, so of course-” 

“Zain Javadd Malik!” 

His mother’s use of his full name in the stern voice that used to make Zayn shiver when he was a teenager makes Zayn close his mouth, jaw snapping together audibly. Zayn doesn’t know if the reprimand has to do with him referring to the years-old argument with his father or the hardly-covered insult hurled at his sister, but he knows better than to press the issue. So Zayn chooses the easy way out. “I’ll unpack some stuff before dinner.” 

He ignores the hurt look in mother’s eyes and determinedly doesn’t look at his father as he rushes from the kitchen, not wanting to have to decipher the look the older man is shooting him. 

Great. Just fucking great. He’s only been in the house a few hours and he already managed to anger his father and hurt his mum. 

Zayn vows to himself to keep his mouth shut from now on, if he wants to survive the next couple of weeks in the house and not damage the already strained relationship with his mother permanently.

***

Doniya smiles gratefully when Zayn hands her a cup of tea. She looks as exhausted as Zayn feels. After getting their father into bed, as well as dealing with an argument between Safaa and Waliyha about some sort of lipstick that Zayn is clueless about, the two of them are drained.

“I can’t believe I forgot how fucking annoying teenagers can be.” He tells Doniya as he sinks down on the couch next to her. “We weren’t that bad, were we?”

Doniya snorts. “You were the impossible one, Zayn. I was an angel.”

“Shut it.” Zayn elbows his sister and she laughs. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Zayn.” 

“Mmm.” Zayn replies noncommittal. 

“How long can you stay?” 

Zayn takes a breath. “As long as you need me here, Doni.”

“But what about-”

“It’s fine.” Zayn interrupts. _It’s not like I have anywhere else to be_ , he wants to say. But Zayn doesn’t want to sound just as dramatic as his teenage sisters, so he refrains. 

“Will you be able to afford your apartment if you’re here without a job?”

It’s a legitimate question. Doniya has always been the most practical of the Malik-children, so Zayn is not surprised his elder sister is actually the first one to ask the question. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“I gave up my apartment, Doniya.” Zayn flinches slightly when he realises how snappy he sounds. His sister looks unimpressed though. She’d never been one to accept his attitude without giving him some back. “Why the hell would you do that, eh?”

“I don’t have a job, as you just pointed out. I can’t afford it.” 

It’s the rational answer – too rational – and Zayn knows Doniya sees right through him. “Zayn-“

“And it’s not like I have anything else left to go back to.” Zayn voices his previous, overly dramatic response. It’s the first time he admits it to someone out loud. Instead of it making him feel worse, Zayn actually feels relieved to say it. 

“Zayn…” 

This time, Doniya’s voice is dripping with concern. It washes over Zayn and the familiarity of his sister’s love for him, makes his walls crumble. “I have no idea what to do now, Doni. I’m graduated, but I can’t find a job. The few friends I had were Peter’s to begin with, so it’s not like they’re a reason for me to stay in London. And…” His voice drifts off. 

“What happened?” Doniya shifts a little closer and Zayn rests his head on her shoulder. “He cheated on me.” Zayn’s voice cracks, the betrayal still cutting through him like a knife. 

“You told me…” Doniya prompts softly. 

“We weren’t exactly good for months. I was so busy with graduation. I know I got caught up in it, maybe too much, but Peter…” Zayn clearly remembers the cold, stony silences the sparse hours Zayn had been home in their shared flat and Peter hadn’t run off the moment Zayn entered the door. “I had no idea where he went when he wasn’t home. I just assumed he was spending time with friends. Like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Zayn.” Doniya says firmly. “You had no reason to assume anything else.”

“I’m not sure…” Zayn bites his lower lip. “I wasn’t paying him much attention, and-”

“Still, that’s a crap reason to fuck around.”

Zayn almost laughs. Almost. His sister hardly swears and if the conversation would have been lighter, Zayn would have burst into laughter. But he can’t. “I overheard a few students talking about it in the art-room. How they had caught Peter with one of the first year’s in the toilet of one of the bars on campus. Such a fucking cliché.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“When I asked him about it, he didn’t even try to deny it.” Zayn chokes, as he clearly remembers that evening six months ago. How Peter had looked at him, a detached look in his eyes like he hadn’t betrayed Zayn. Like he had been entitled to cheat because Zayn was hardly ever home. Like it was Zayn’s fault. 

_“You’re bloody handsome, Zayn. You’re smart and Christ, you’re a great fuck. But you’re_ cold _, Zayn. I don’t believe you feel anything for me. You just want someone around. ”_

Zayn had taught himself at a very young age how to keep his face clear from any emotions, to protect himself from bullies and slurs about his family’s religion and heritage. Zayn had felt his face blanking when Peter hurled insult after insult his way. When he lays awake at night, Zayn wonders if it would have made a difference if he had actually responded to Peter’s words. If he’d gotten angry, had told Peter he was wrong. But Zayn had been frozen to the ground, not able to say a word. His non-response had been like oil to a fire, making Peter call him a selfish asshole, who didn’t care about anything but his precious art. 

Zayn hadn’t shown Peter how much the words hurt. The words had hurt more than the actual cheating. He would have tried to forgive Peter for his indiscretions. Zayn would have shown Peter that he did care. He had loved Peter. Zayn had been looking forward to finishing university and spend a few months with Peter before looking for a proper job. But if Peter didn’t believe Zayn cared, what was the point? So Zayn had buried his emotions. He had purposely led Peter believe he was as selfish as Peter accused him to be. He hadn’t corrected Peter when the other man blamed Zayn for not caring and he had let Peter walk out the door with a bag with a few essentials. 

Only after Peter had left, Zayn had let his emotions run rampant. It had led to the worst panic attack he’d suffered in years, which was the only reason Doniya even knew the basics of what had happened. His sister had been a life safer that evening, even if it was just her voice through the phone helping him to get his breathing back under control. 

Zayn hadn’t seen Peter since that night. The only contact they had were through texts to arrange a time for Peter to pick up the rest of his stuff. Zayn had texted Peter a week ago to let him know he was ending his lease on the apartment and if Peter wanted the apartment it could be his. Peter hadn’t responded. 

When Zayn had closed the door of the apartment behind him that morning and handed the keys to the landlord, it hadn’t felt like the closure Zayn had hoped. 

“And that’s the whole sad story.” Zayn finishes. 

“He’s an asshole.” Doniya says determinately. “You’re not selfish.”

Zayn laughs bitterly. “I took a week to come home, Doniya. Because I didn’t want to deal with the mess here. How’s that not selfish?”

“You’re here now.” 

Zayn is actually grateful his sister doesn’t try to deny that postponing his trip hasn’t been one of his more selfish decisions. Zayn sighs as Doniya’s arm tightens around him. “You’re here and we love you.”

Because Zayn is exhausted, he doesn’t fight his sister’s words. There really isn’t a lot of love left between him and his father, but Zayn doesn’t want to deal with that disaster on top of everything else. Not tonight. 

“I love you, too.” Is what he says instead.


End file.
